


Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

by Fliggy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Body Horror, Death, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Levi is a nurse, Plague, Scientist Annie, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fliggy/pseuds/Fliggy
Summary: Annie Leonhardt and Armin Arlert are postdoctoral researchers at the prestigious Sina University. But their lives are changed by the sudden outbreak of a disease known as hanahaki, which causes victims to cough up flowers petals until they die. Dispatched to Trost General Hospital, Annie and Armin desperately search for a cure to the affliction.Note: unfinished/abandoned story.





	1. Prologue

**Hanahaki**

_Hanahaki (HK)_ is a wasting disease which causes its victims to cough up flower petals. Though the exact cause of _hanahaki_ is unknown, it is often linked to strong feelings of unrequited (one-sided) love.

According to superstition, if the feelings are reciprocated then the disease is cured. Otherwise, the victim’s lungs fill up with flower petals, and they suffocate.

As a last-ditch effort to cure _hanahaki_ , one can try surgery. The procedure attempts to remove the disease's plantlike growth from a victim’s respiratory system. For obvious reasons, these procedures are both expensive and dangerous. Sometimes the disease has become entwined with its victim. The process of removing it may cause irreparable damage. Those that survive the procedure present with shortness of breath and emotional detachment from the world around them.

In the past month, _hanahaki_ has become widespread among the populace, in what is being described as a “flower plague.” Once seen as a romantic affliction, _hanahaki_ is now feared. When confronted with it, people find there is nothing romantic nor beautiful in the stark truth of plants gnawing away inside their victims’ lungs.


	2. In the Fields They Burn Flowers

The young boy sat patiently in the doctor’s office. Every so often he turned and coughed cherry blossoms on the wax paper of the exam table.

The blossoms were delicate things, little pink buds, crumpled and coated in saliva. As far as flowers went, they weren’t the worst. They wouldn’t cause endless fits of coughing like dandelions, nor would they lodge in your throat and choke you like sunflowers.

The boy’s name was Falco.

“Do you remember when you first started observing symptoms?” Annie asked him, pencil tapping against her clipboard. Small traces of evening sun trickled in from the window, illuminating the blonde hair on the boy’s head. He sat very still, she noticed, unlike most of the kids she'd surveyed. He had an air of maturity about him.

“It was yesterday,” Falco said. “I was running a race with some friends. I really wanted to win, and I don’t usually. But this time I tried really hard and I overtook her. My friend Gabi, I mean. At the finish line, I tried to catch my breath. I started coughing and coughing, and then I coughed up a pink flower.”

“Mm.” Annie marked down the relevant details. “And then you came right here?”

“Yes,” Falco said. “I came with my family to the waiting room. That was yesterday. It’s very crowded in there. We had to wait through the night. I couldn’t sleep. Everyone was coughing flower petals. There were petals all across the floor and the chairs. One person went to sleep, and they didn’t wake back up, and then some men came and took them away.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Annie said. “A lot of people are sick right now. We don’t have enough space.”

The boy turned to the side and coughed, delicately. It lasted a few seconds. Presently, his coughs stopped, and he reached up into his mouth and drew out a line of cherry blossoms. They were stuck to one another, glazed, dripping in phlegm. A line of wet saliva connected them to his lips even as he drew his hand away. He shook his hand until the flowers came loose, falling onto the table. He looked up at Annie, shame in his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“There’s no need to apologize.” Picking a tissue paper from the box on her wooden stand, she wiped the boy’s mouth for him, gently. She deposited the paper into the wastebin. The wet cherry blossoms were still printed against the white paper of the table. She left them there for now.

Falco blinked. “Miss Leonhardt, I don’t get it.” He sounded like a boy who was trying very hard to be brave. “I’m not in love with anyone.”

“Mm.” Her pencil left long marks on the loose-leaf of the clipboard. _Not in love_ , she thought, as she wrote it down. _That’s what they always say at first._

 

* * *

 

Once the boy had left, Levi came in to help her clean. He looked somewhat funny in his nursing scrubs, the face mask not quite hiding a scowl. Despite his uncouth demeanor, he had a sort of tender heart. When she'd first arrived a week ago, he’d ask her about the patients. If she thought they were going to be okay, if they needed anything. Now, he didn’t ask—no one did. There were no more pleasant answers.

“Those papers came for you,” he said, plucking the pink flowers one by one from the table with his gloves, depositing them into a little bag.

“Oh.” Annie turned. “The epidemiological data, or the surgical reports?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I think both.”

“That’s good.” She’d requested the reports be put together weeks ago. She needed incidence data to track how the disease might be spread—if it was infectious, how it might be transmitted, where it had started. She also needed the reports on the only known cure to _hanahaki_ —surgery, to be exact.

She hadn’t witnessed a surgery firsthand. The only scientist in the world capable of it was Hange Zoe, in the capital. She’d heard stories. They said _hanahaki_ was even more horrifying when you cut someone open and looked inside. There in a person’s lungs you found twisted, flowering stems, little roots attached to alveolar tissue, weaving through the bronchi, hopelessly intertwined. They had to pull it out like they were pulling up a weed. But a plucked weed always comes with clumps of dirt, and when they pulled up the _hanahaki_ it wasn’t dirt that came up in clumps, it was pieces of the body.

“Petra died,” Levi said.

“Oh.” Annie stopped what she was doing and set her clipboard down. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She hadn’t known Petra personally, but had run into her a few times here and there. She’d been another nurse in the hospital, a bubbly, excitable girl who’d seemed to have an impossible energy.

Annie frowned. “I saw her only a few days ago. She seemed well. Was it…”

“Yes,” Levi said. “The disease took her quickly.” He paused. “Roses,” he said, as way of explanation.

“I’m very sorry,” Annie said.

Levi picked the last flower from the table and stood up. He grabbed the mop and bucket from the corner of the room. “I’m going to swab this place down now.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to be in my office, reading the reports. If you see Armin, tell him to meet me there.”

Levi nodded and went quietly to work.

Annie took off her gloves and dropped them in the wastebin, before washing her hands thoroughly. She walked to the door, but hesitated, with her hand on the knob. She stared out the window. On the horizon, there were faint lines of smoke. In the fields, they were burning flowers.


	3. Together

There was a knock at her office door. “Come in,” Annie said, voice numb. The door creaked open, and a short man with thick blonde hair and blue eyes peeked in. “Hey, Annie,” he said.

She rubbed her face and sighed. “Hey, Armin. Any progress on your end?”

“No… the staff are starting to get sick. I talked with Eren, and he said that we’re running out of experienced nurses.” Armin stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned back against it and closed his eyes. “Damn. I’m so tired.” He slid down until he was sitting with his hands on his knees.

Annie grabbed the stack of papers and walked over to him. She joined him on their floor, their backs against the office wall. “Take a look at this,” she said.

“What is it?”

“The only known cure to _hanahaki_.”

He brushed long strands of hair away from his face and gazed down at the report. He began to flip through them diligently, every so often rubbing his fingers together for a better grip. He frowned. “We don’t have the equipment for this.”

“We’ll have it soon.”

“We don’t have a trained surgeon, either.”

“That’s true,” Annie admitted.

His frown deepened.

“Annie, the survival rate for this procedure is 15%. It scars the victims permanently. And that’s with Hange, the most skilled doctor on the planet. If we did this here, we’d be cutting people open. We’d be killing them.”

“What’s the alternative?” Annie asked quietly. “Everyone in those hospital beds is dying. There’s no other solution.”

He looked at her. Once, he’d seemed so youthful. Now there were deep bags under his eyes. Since they’d arrived a month ago, he’d slept every night his office, she knew that.

“I’ve been reading old stories about _hanahaki_ ,” Armin said. “The history is spotty, but a few records do exist. The ancients thought it was caused by strong feelings of unrequited love. And the only way it can be cured is if the feelings are reciprocated.”

“I’ve heard the stories. I just didn’t put any stock in them. How would you even get people to reciprocate?”

“I don’t know,” Armin said. He leaned his head back against the wall. “That’s the hard part. You can’t force someone to love you back.”

Annie noticed his hands were trembling.

“I’ve spent my whole life preparing for a moment like this,” Armin said. “My parents died in the influenza, when we were kids. Did I ever tell you that?”

Annie shook her head.

“I knew something like this was coming,” he said. “But now that it’s finally here, it’s like I can’t move, can’t breathe. I’m useless. I can’t do a damn thing.”

“It’s okay, Armin.” She took his trembling hands, squeezed them gently. “We’re going to solve this, together. We just need to think.”

 

* * *

 

At 9:00 p.m., the remaining staff of Trost General Hospital gathered for an emergency meeting. Each night, the number of healthy doctors, nurses, and other practitioners dwindled. Some came in sick, infected by the very disease they’d been trying to prevent. Others just stopped showing up.

The nervous murmurs and concerned commotion came to a sudden halt, as a tall man with thick eyebrows walked to the front of the auditorium. He cleared his throat, and the room fell silent.

“My name is Erwin Smith. I arrived here yesterday from Mitras. As some of you may or may not know, the chief physician of Trost General, Keith Shadis, has fallen ill. I am the new acting chief physician.”

A whisper of shock went through the crowd.

Erwin continued. “News from the capitol is grim. _Hanahaki_ has infected roughly 40% of the population, and new cases continue to appear. This is a country-wide epidemic. The government has declared a state of emergency, and instituted martial law.” His voice broke for a second and he looked down at his feet. For a moment there was quiet. “Pardon me,” he said at last. “This has been difficult… for all of us, I’m sure. As I was saying. Food stockpiles are estimated to last us about two months. After that, we are at risk not only to plague, but also to mass starvation.”

“Do you have any good news, Erwin?” called out Jean, one of the doctors. He looked around, grinning, and there was a sort of relieved laughter. Annie found herself chuckling too—it was the sort of laugh that came from a place of intense pressure.

“I do,” Erwin said. “And the good news is this: the men and women in this room are of the highest caliber. Trost General has provided more empirical data towards the _hanahaki_ plague than any other medical institution in the country, and, God willing, it is at Trost General that we will find the cure to this terrible disease. To everyone in this room, I thank you for your strength and dedication. We must continue to fight. To fight is hard. But fight we must—because it is by fighting that we will win.”


	4. Priorities

As Erwin’s address ended, the crowd started to disperse. Some of the doctors were heading home for the night, though most were staying. Armin waved at Eren and Mikasa, two doctors in his wing, as they passed.

“We better stay and introduce ourselves to Erwin,” muttered Armin to her as people milled around them. “Sounds like the management situation’s starting to get dicey.”

“Yeah,” Annie said. “I agree.”

They made their way over to Erwin Smith as the room cleared out. Erwin glanced over at them as they approached.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, shaking Armin’s hand, then Annie’s. “You must be the researchers?”

Armin and Annie glanced at one another. “How did you know?” Armin asked.

Erwin chuckled. “The description was pretty clear. Two short blondes? I did do the reading on the way over, I can promise you that.”

Annie relaxed. “I’m sorry.” she said. “It’s just—we wanted to make sure—”

Erwin’s eyes seemed to twinkle. “I understand completely,” he said. “New, sudden change in management. You’re not sure what to expect. And your work is much too important to be interfered with. Speaking of which—I hope you won’t mind me asking for a rundown of what you've learned about the disease, soon? Perhaps tomorrow.”

“We’d be glad to,” Annie said. “Though, unfortunately…” she glanced at Armin. “I think between the two of us, we’ve made very little progress.”

Erwin sighed. “Yes. It is the same everywhere, I’m afraid.” He took a second to adjust one of the buttons on his sleeve. “Let’s talk about more pleasant things. I understand you two were researchers at Sina U before being relocated here. May I ask your educational background?”

Annie hesitated, then said, “Well, I did my undergraduate at Maria University, in mathematics and biology. I continued on to Sina U, where I completed my PhD in Epidemiology.”

“And she’s not saying it, but she’s a leading researcher in her field,” Armin said. “I’ve known her for three years, and she has the most analytical mind of anyone I’ve ever met. Since the outbreak, we’ve been studying the reports together, trying to identify any patterns. But the raw data is too scattered and too unclear. That’s why we asked to be relocated here to Trost General. That was a month ago.”

“Very good. Please continue the excellent work. We’ll speak more about this tomorrow. But please, both of you, make sure to take a break from working every now and again.” He paused, then gestured to Annie. “You have a husband? A boyfriend?”

“Um, yes.” Annie fidgeted. “A boyfriend.”

“Once you finish up any immediate work you have tonight, you should go home and see him.”

“It’s fine, really, I—”

“I insist. Go home to your loved one. It is love, after all, that shields us in these trying times. We must continually renew the bonds of commitment that keep us not only happy, but safe. So, please. Go spend some time with your boyfriend.” Erwin tapped the side of his head with a finger. “It’s good for your health. And you too, Mr. Arlert. I expect you will prioritize your own health as well.”

“I…” Armin seemed at a loss.

Erwin leaned forward. “Listen to me, both of you,” he said. “You are our front lines against this disease. Our vanguard. The fate of this country rests on your shoulders. If you fall ill, others fall with you. Do you understand?”

Annie nodded. Armin gulped, and said, “yes, sir.”

“Good.” Erwin drew himself back up, glanced around, and then said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve been travelling for the past two days, and I haven’t slept. I think I’m going to go pass out in the break room.” He took his leave.

 

* * *

 

“"He's right, you really should go home." Armin said. "Bert’s probably missing you.”

“I don’t want to leave everyone here,” Annie said. “It feels wrong.”

“If it makes you feel better, take your papers and do some work at home. But you should go see him.” He pushed her gently on the shoulder. “Go. I’ll keep things running here. See you tomorrow.”

Annie sighed.

“Alright,” she said. “See you in the morning.”

On the way out, she grabbed the surgical reports and outbreak data, and stuffed the papers into her briefcase. The sick bay was on the way to the parking lot, and she took a quick peek.

A huge warehouse full of beds, and people coughing, and walking between them was Levi, quietly sweeping flower petals from the floor. He looked up at her and nodded, and she nodded back.

He went back to his work, and she let the door swing closed.

Then she headed to her car.


	5. Eternity

She drove home in silence. The streets were empty, only a few vehicles on the road. The lampposts illuminating an empty city, stark and desolate. It was an odd, but somewhat captivating feeling.

When she stepped in through the front door, Bertholdt was asleep on the table. His tall, thin frame was bent over the wood, and he was snoring gently. She shook his shoulder. “Hey,” she whispered.

He blinked a few times and looked up at her. “Hey.”

“Were you waiting for me?”

“No, just—couldn’t sleep, you know. Wasn’t sure if you were gonna be coming home tonight. Everything okay at the hospital?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to see you.”

He got up and pulled her into a hug. “Missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too.”

After a second, he pulled back, and looked at her. “You hungry? I already ate, but there’s some food in the refrigerator,” he said. “I can just heat it up. Casserole okay?”

“Oh… casserole would be lovely.” She dropped onto the couch and groaned in relief. “Oh my god. It’s so comfy.”

Bertholdt had shuffled off sleepily to the kitchen, and from her perch on the couch she could see him moving about, opening the refrigerator and taking out a dish. She let her eyes drift closed.

Unbidden images floated to the front of her mind. Levi walking between the beds of the sick bay. Flower petals lining the floor. Cherry blossoms stuck to one another, dripping in glaze.

“So, any progress on the _hanahaki_ front?” Bertholdt called out.

She sighed.

He turned and gave her a little half-smile. “Guess not.”

“Bear,” she said. Her favorite nickname for him was _Bear_ , the first syllable of his name. “Can you come here for a second?”

“Sure.” He walked over and knelt by the couch. There was concern in his eyes. “You alright? Need a backrub?”

She patted the space on the couch next to her. “Sit here.”

“Okay.” He slid in beside her.

She closed her eyes. “Hold me,” she whispered.

She felt his arms around her. His face against her neck. She could feel the brush of his stubble. “Like this?” he asked.

“Closer.”

She nestled into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart, his body heat. For a second, she forgot all her worries, and everything seemed okay.

Every muscle in her body clenched tight. As if through sheer force of will, she could etch this moment into the side of the universe, preserve it for all eternity.

“Annie, is everything alright?”

“Yes.”

She felt his lips suddenly against her ear. He licked her earlobe, and she giggled. “That tickles,” she said.

“I can’t help it,” he mumbled. “Your earlobe is just so delicious.”

“Weird!” She laughed as he licked her again. “Gross, you’re slobbering everywhere.”

“If you don’t like slobber, you shouldn’t have asked a bear to cuddle with you.”

She buried her head in the little crevice between his chin and chest, her nose pressed up against his collarbone. He didn’t say anything, and she listened to the beating of his heart.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much. I always will.” He tightened his arms around her and pulled her in, and for a while, the world was just the two of them.


	6. Meaningless Data

Later that night, Annie studied the transmission data from her briefcase. Her body was tired, but her brain was restless. For some reason, the idea of pollination kept springing back into her mind. Flowers producing spores… spores carried by the wind, or by small creatures like bees and hummingbirds, then settling into foreign fields, and taking up root.

She stared at the reports in her hand, and the senseless, meaningless data stared back at her.

Just over a month ago, cases of _hanahaki_ had started popping up around the city. A week had passed, and suddenly more and more people were coughing up flower petals. By the two-week mark, the hospital had been overflowing.

Annie had assumed that the data she’d requested—a national incidence map, would spread light on where the disease had come from. Something as infectious as this, there was bound to be a Ground Zero. An origin point.

She’d studied horrible plagues before. Influenza, strep throat, smallpox. They brewed somewhere in a corner of the population, then erupted—spreading like wildfire, wreaking havoc—until eventually enough people had died and the rest gained immunity.

And then the diseases went back into hiding, lurking in the shadows, in fecal waste and little droplets and squalor, for years. Eventually, the pattern repeated.

But as Annie flipped through the tables, maps, and charts of the report she could find no clear pattern of transmission. _Hanahaki_ did not track population movements. It did not seem obviously airborne or droplet-borne.

She had wondered if it could have been transmitted by the pollination of plants, but bee populations had collapsed several years ago.

The bee population collapse… why did she keep coming back to bees and pollination, anyway? It was something about the aesthetics of _hanahaki_. Plants growing inside a person’s lungs. The coughing of flower petals. It was like _hanahaki_ was trying to spread itself.

Could it be true that the _hanahaki_ was some form of plantlike organism that reproduced by the pollination of spores?

Could it be true that the collapse of bee populations meant that _hanahaki_ had lost a critical method of reproduction?

Might the current outbreak of _hanahaki_ be a form of adaptation, a way for the organism to reproduce using—not bees as carriers—but instead humans?

“ANNIE!”

Bertholdt’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

His voice was different. Not like she’d ever heard before.

She got up from her desk, and walked towards the sound of his voice, heart hammering in her chest. A part of her already knew what she would see. She found him in the kitchen, leaning over the kitchen sink.

“Bear, what’s wrong?” she asked.

_Please, let it be nothing, please, please, please._

“Look,” Bertholdt said.

She walked up to him, her feet heavy, her eyes unwilling. 

A thin line of saliva was dangling from his lip. Circling the drain, a single flower petal.


	7. Unrequited Love

Bertholdt looked at her. She didn’t know what she was expecting to see in his eyes. She should have prepared herself. His eyes were full of hurt and betrayal. The way he looked at her cut right to the core. She felt like collapsing.

“Annie. You don’t love me?”

“I do love you,” she said.

He pointed wordlessly at the flower petal. _Unrequited love._

Annie shook her head. “No, there must be something wrong, maybe it’s…” she reached forward and grabbed his arm. “Bear, it must be because you don’t _believe_ I love you. It doesn’t make logical sense for it to just come from one-sided love. It has to be the beliefs of the sick person. It’s biology, not magic.”

“Horseshit. I did believe you loved me. Until now.” His face was a snarl. “Are you really trying to blame this on me?”

“No!” she said, desperate. “I’m trying to save you. I do love you, Bertholdt, I do, I swear.” But even as she said it, her mind was at work.

_How do I know that I love him? What are the data saying? The evidence is that unrequited love is tightly linked to hanahaki… the relationship between those two things has demonstrated statistical significance. Might it be that… could it be true that…_

“No,” she whispered. “I love you, I’m sure—”

“It’s Armin, isn’t it?”

It was like all the air had gone out of her lungs. Like she’d been punched. “What?”

“That little rat,” Bertholdt said. His face was contorted, cheeks twisted and flushed, sweat dripping down his forehead. When he spoke again his voice was full of rage. He was nothing like the Bertholdt she’d seen before. Annie suddenly became aware of just how tall he was, how he loomed over her. She looked up at him and saw his hands balled into fists and his immense stature.

“I should’ve known you and Armin had something,” Bertholdt said. “This whole time, behind my back. I thought it was suspicious, but I trusted you.”

“Bertholdt, I never—”

“I TRUSTED YOU!”

He swept his hand along the kitchen counter in a sudden, furious motion. Dishes and plates went flying to the floor, sounding an enormous crash through the house as they shattered at Annie’s feet. She shrieked and darted for the door.

“Where are you going?” Bertholdt shouted. “Come back—” but his voice caught, and he doubled over. As Annie ran to the driveway, she heard the echoes of his coughs ringing out into the air.

Her hands trembled as she fished for the car keys in her pocket. Bertholdt did not come to stop her.

 

 

She drove to the hospital in tears. The streets were deserted.


	8. Causality

A hand on her shoulder shook her awake. “Annie,” a voice hissed.

She looked up, blinking away exhaustion.

Levi was examining her, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly. They were in her office. The morning sun reflected in through the window. Annie slowly recollected the pieces of her memory, remembering the events of the night before.

She’d driven away from her home, tears streaming down her face, as in the rearview mirror everything she knew and loved had faded. Her boyfriend, Bertholdt, on his knees, coughing.

She’d stumbled into the office at the hospital, a trembling wreck, and fallen asleep in the chair.

“Are you alright?” Levi asked, slowly. “The first patients are ready to see you.”

“…yes,” Annie said. She blinked and felt the soreness in the corners of her eyes. “I’m ready,” she said. “Just give me ten minutes. Then you can start sending them in.”

 

* * *

 

“Miss Annie?” Falco said. The young boy was back in her office, sitting on the wax paper again, the cherry blossoms falling from his lips.

“Yes?”

Her voice was hoarse. She could not get Bertholdt out of her head. _I trusted you_.

“I’ve realized something.” Falco said. He shifted on the examination table, his legs dangling. He seemed uncomfortable. “I think I’m in love,” he said finally. “With my friend, Gabi.”

“I thought it might be something like that.”

Falco was taken by a momentary coughing fit. Yesterday his lungs had brought up the petals in delicate, refined coughs. Today they racked his body. Pink buds splatted against the linoleum floor.

There was something nagging at the back of Annie’s brain, but then Falco spoke again. “Miss Annie, they’re saying it’s caused when you love someone, but they don’t love you back.”

 _A single flower petal circling the drain. She_ swallowed a lump in her throat. “Yes… that is one theory.”

“So, if Gabi loves me back, then that means I’ll be cured?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to try,” Falco said, fiercely. “I’m going to show her that I’m worthy of her. And I’m going to cure this disease.”

_There are no cases in which hanahaki has been cured through the reciprocation of love. No reported cases, at least. According to our empirical knowledge, the only survivors of hanahaki went through surgery. Of the rest, there are only ongoing cases, and fatalities._

She should have said something like that to him. It was cruel of her to let him get his hopes up, she knew that. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell this boy he was surely going to die. So, instead. “I think you should do that,” Annie said. “Try to convince her to love you back.”

The look of determination in Falco’s eyes made her want to curl up somewhere, made her want to disappear, so as not to burden the world with her failure.

 

* * *

 

At noon there was a small break. Annie locked herself in her office. She sat in her desk chair, pulled her knees up to her chest, buried her head and tried to wipe her mind blank of any thought or emotion.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Annie said.

“Annie, are you in there? It’s Mikasa.”

“Oh.”

Mikasa was a doctor, in Armin’s wing. Annie had only spoken with her a few times. The other woman’s voice was hesitant, muffled by the wood door that stood between them.

“Everyone’s worried about you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Annie called back out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause.

“I have some lunch here for you,” Mikasa said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat.”

Annie sighed. “Fine,” she said. She got to her feet, walked over, turned the lock. The tall, dark-haired girl smiled at her in the doorway. She had a thin red scarf wrapped around her neck. She held up a little brown baggie. “Chips and carrots? With hummus dip.”

Annie smiled faintly. “Okay.”

“I was gonna get you some yogurt with honey, too, but they were all out at the store…” Mikasa said.

“It’s okay, Mikasa, really. Thank you for thinking of me. I think I’ll just—” and suddenly, midsentence, she felt a sudden dizziness, and she swayed heavily against the wall. Only Mikasa grabbing her stopped her from falling completely.

“Annie, are you sure you’re alright?”

“No,” Annie admitted. “I haven’t had much sleep, and things have been going wrong, and I… and I…” and the words came spilling out of her, a sudden deluge out of nowhere. She told Mikasa everything, and Mikasa didn’t condemn her or judge, only nodded every so often, and then when Annie had finished, wrapped her in a deep, long, hug.

“Why can’t I love Bertholdt enough?” Annie asked into Mikasa’s shoulder. “I’d do anything to cure him. I thought I loved him. I could swear I loved him more than anything. But the evidence doesn’t lie.”

“Who knows?” Mikasa said. “Hearts are strange things. Look, do you see this scarf I’m wearing?” She lifted the red scarf that embroidered her neck. “This was given to me by Eren, when we were kids. I thought the disease was going to take me much earlier… because I care for him. I’ve had plenty of time to think about my feelings. But I can’t just choose to take them away. They’re a part of me. They’re not something I can control.” Mikasa looked thoughtful. “And even if I could get rid of them, I don’t know if I would. Even to save myself. Life wouldn’t be the same… without them.”

“I know,” Annie said. “But for me, life won’t be the same, without him.”

In the pit of her throat, she was starting to feel a sort of pain. An acid reflux, a condition she suffered from when she didn’t get enough sleep. It was caused by stomach acid backing up into the esophagus. In some texts they called it heartburn.

 

* * *

 

After Mikasa left, Annie sat back down at her office desk. Something was bothering her, had been nagging her since that morning appointment with Falco.

There was something about the link between _hanahaki_ and unrequited love, which just did not make sense. And part of it... was that there almost seemed to be counterexamples.

Perhaps Bertholdt and I are the false positive, she thought. If unrequited love causes _hanahaki_ , then he should not have fallen ill. Because I love him. She gritted her teeth. _Because I love him. I do._

And there’s a false negative, too: Mikasa and Eren. Because Mikasa loves him, but he doesn’t love her back. At least, not in the way she wishes he would. If unrequited love is the driver of the disease, then how has she not fallen ill?

It might be, Annie thought, that there is something wrong with the theorized love- _hanahaki_ link. In some way, we, the scientists, have erred.

And yet.

A regression analysis had showed that almost every individual who suffered from _hanahaki_ had also reported strong feelings of unrequited emotional attachment towards some individual. The statistical relationship was so clear, it could not have arisen by chance. She had the report right in front of her.

But regression analysis did not show causality. Only correlation.

The analysis had been run on panel data, taken a week into the patient’s hospital stay. There was one column with a binary variable coded to _hanahaki_ , and another column with a binary variable coded to _reported attachment_. There was no temporal element to the data.

But there was a temporal element to the disease.

Falco had fallen ill. The next day, he’d claimed to be in love with his friend Gabi. If an event A is observed before an event B, which is more likely to have caused which?

Annie stared at the data with a dawning, cumulative sense of horror.

It did not make sense for a chain of causality to run backwards through time.

It was not unrequited love which was causing _hanahaki_.  It was _hanahaki_ which was causing unrequited love.


	9. Roots and Symptoms

_You are rationalizing,_ she thought. _You are trying to figure out some way to explain Bertholdt’s sickness so that it is not your fault_.

And if she was being honest, then yes, that was her motive. Because guilt was tearing her apart from the inside. And she needed to survive. Not for her own sake, but for the sake of the people who were relying on her.

She closed her eyes. Her hands were trembling.

 _Later_ , she thought.

_There is time for self-analysis later._

_I can wonder if it is my fault, I can wonder if I’m a good person, after this is over. After I have saved Bertholdt and Falco, and everyone in the sick bay, and all the patients in the world who are on their knees regurgitating beauty onto white linen. Then I can take the time to wonder if I am at fault._

She took the surgical reports and the transmission data from the desk. She quieted her trembling hands. She rose to her feet.

 _It must be true. My theory must be true_.

Because there was no other way forward. She had nothing else left to believe.

 

* * *

 

She walked through the corridors, first stopping by Armin’s office. She rapped her fist twice on his door. There was no answer. A young aide was passing. “Excuse me,” Annie said. “Do you know if Dr. Arlert has been in today?”

“I just saw him earlier,” the aide said. They frowned. “I’m not sure where he is now. Do you want me to go find him?”

“No, it’s fine.” Annie waved them off. “I’m sure he’s busy with something. If you see him again, can you tell him I’m looking for him?”

The aide nodded. “Sure.”

Annie continued on toward the chief physician’s office.

The door was ajar. Erwin was at his desk, looked up, surveyed her as she entered the room. “Dr. Leonhardt,” he said. “Have you made a breakthrough?”

She laid her papers down on his desk. “I have.”

He leaned forward, arms clasped under his chin, his eyes staring at her as she leaned over his desk. There was gravel in his voice as he spoke. “Tell me everything.”

“I had questions about _hanahaki_ from the beginning,” Annie said. “The first thing that confused me was the way in which it appeared, almost at random, throughout the population. Unlike other diseases I’ve studied, _hanahaki_ does not travel along transmission lines. It does not track population movements. In fact, I do not believe _hanahaki_ , as a disease, has actually been spreading at all.”

She was expecting Erwin to react, but his expression didn’t change.

“Let me explain,” she said. “I believe there are two aspects to the disease. There is an initial infection stage, in which the disease captures a host body but lies dormant. Then there is some trigger event, at which point the symptoms emerge. I estimate that the dormant form of the disease exists in approximately 90 to 95% of the population.”

“So, we are all infected,” Erwin said slowly. “And some trigger causes the disease to actually manifest. And you’re saying this trigger… could this be an emotion? A feeling? Could it be love?”

“That’s what I thought at first,” Annie said. “But the orthodox theory—that _hanahaki_ is caused by unrequited love—always seemed illogical and unintuitive. How would the body know love is unrequited? Humans are not mind readers. So, from the start, I thought it doubtful that a relationship could cause people to expel flower petals from their lungs.”

“But there is a proven relationship in the data between the two things,” Erwin said. “Love and the disease. They are statistically linked.”

“Yes. They are. But…” Annie hesitated, her mind racing. Now the words were spilling from her mouth, and she could only hope they were coherent.

“Let me explain like this,” she said. “The expulsion of flower petals, _fetóptysis_ , is an observable symptom of _hanahaki_. The severity of _fetóptysis_ worsens as the disease runs its course. And there is another symptom that worsens over time. In my work with patients in the early stages of _hanahaki_ , many claim that they have no strong feelings of affection for any particular individual.  But they eventually admit, or perhaps identify, a target for this affection. As the duration of exposure continues, they gradually stop denying their unrequited feelings.”

Erwin said nothing, just pursed his lips.

“It is commonly thought,” Annie said, “that _hanahaki_ is caused by unrequited love. However, it is love which grows throughout the course of the infection. Love is the symptom.”

She continued. “There are a few cases where patients have undergone extremely risky surgical procedures, in an effort to remove _hanahaki_ from the lungs. In the few cases where the patients survived, they reported that their intense feelings of unrequited love had disappeared. In some cases, there was also reported a general coldness towards people, and a disinclination towards emotion. With my framework, the conclusion to this is unmistakable.”

“It is not unrequited love that causes _hanahaki_. Nor is _hanahaki_ a conventional disease. Rather, it is something that infects the human population at large. In most cases, it develops a commensal or perhaps symbiotic relationship with its host. In return for the resources needed to survive, the _hanahaki_ provides its host with the capability of experiencing love.”

“What, then, of _fetóptysis_? What about the plague? My belief is that this represents some deterioration in the relationship between _hanahaki_ and human. As to the mechanics of what or why this happens, I’m not exactly sure. I do know that it is generally not in the interests of a parasite to kill its host.”


	10. The Sick Bay

Erwin leaned back in his chair. His face was still expressionless, but when he opened his mouth and then closed it again, she realized she’d stunned him.

Finally, he exhaled and said, “Let’s suppose your theory is correct. Then what _is_ the trigger event which causes _hanahaki_ to turn… violent? Not any particular feeling or emotion, is what you are telling me.”

“I’m… still trying to figure it out,” Annie said. “I have a couple of theories for what could be causing it. But yes, I doubt that it is something as ethereal and hard to pin down as ‘unrequited love.’ The more scientific explanation would be that it is caused by something chemical.” She frowned. “Perhaps some chemical has been introduced into the food or water supply recently, that has not existed in the past.”

Erwin reached forward, started shuffling through papers. “I have records of observed dietary changes, somewhere,” he muttered. “Could it be fluoride in the water supply? I know that some people say…”

Annie pursed her lips. “Unlikely,” she said. “Too long ago. But along that track. If you have the records, I’d like a list of all newly introduced chemicals. And I’d like access to the lab downstairs, for testing.”

“Granted,” Erwin said. He lifted up a packet from the desk. “Found it. Here are the records.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the papers from him. “I’ll do my best. For some reason, I keep coming back to the idea of bees… the bee population collapse. I’m not sure why.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. We’re in the realm of complete speculation here.”

“I understand,” Erwin said. “There is no time for controlled, randomized experiments. We must trust our instincts now.”

“Do you know where Armin is? I need to find him, discuss my theory.”

“I’m not sure. I believe he mentioned that he’d be in the sick bay.”

“Thank you, Erwin.”

“No—thank you, Dr. Leonhardt. Please keep me updated on any progress. Godspeed.”

 

* * *

 

She opened the sick bay to the sound of coughing. The coughs came from all corners of the warehouse, hundreds of them, different frequencies and volumes, layering on top of one another in some kind of hellish discordance. She blinked and stepped forward into the huge room.

From where she stood to the far wall, hospital beds were arranged in straight lines. A few assistants paced the floor, sweeping away flower petals into piles, but there were so many patients, and so few nurses.

“Annie,” a voice said, over the cacophony.

She turned to see Levi staring at her, a broom in his hands. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Have you seen Armin? I’ve been trying to track him down.”

Levi frowned, then shook his head. “I haven’t seen him here, but it’s possible he slipped my attention. It’s been… very hectic. Ah, actually, pardon me for a second.” He walked forward past her, at a brisk pace. She turned to watch as he knelt down at the bedside of a woman who giving heavy shuddering coughs.

“She’s choking,” Levi said, as the woman began to convulse.

“Help!” Annie called out, looking around. “Nurses—”

Levi gestured her to stop. “It’s fine,” he said, calmly. He put his knee on the bed and pushed the woman down. He balled his hands into fists and brought them together, and then pushed heavily on the woman’s chest.

Annie watched, helpless. She knew there was nothing she could do—she was an epidemiologist, but Levi was the nurse. He was the one who put saving lives into practice, who had the training to do this.

Levi pumped against the woman’s chest steadily, until they both heard a catch in her throat, and she took a deep, inhaling breath. Annie watched as the woman lay back against the bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling in relief—too tired to even say anything.

Levi grasped the woman’s hand, leaned down. Annie watched as he whispered a few words of comfort to her, before getting back to his feet.

“It’s been like this all morning,” Levi said. “Sometimes we don’t see it in time… can’t save them.”

 “I…” Annie couldn’t words to say.

Somewhere in the warehouse, a man started screaming. They both turned as nurses rushed over to a bed where a man had started flailing desperately, hands clawing at his shirt.

“What’s going on?” Annie asked, though she was scared to hear the answer.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t watch this,” Levi said.

“I have to. I need to know what’s happening,” Annie heard herself say, and she felt herself striding forwards, almost unbidden.

“This seems to happen sometimes, in the late stages of the disease,” Levi said, next to her. “Once it does, there isn’t much more we can do.”

The nurses had stripped the man’s shirt. They blocked Annie’s view as they moved about. One of them was holding a thin white instrument, like a large pen, but with two thin wires protruding from the end.

 _That's an electrocauterizing device_ , Annie thought. _For cutting through skin. They use it to remove tumors. Why would they have—”_

And she caught a glimpse of the man’s bare chest. Thin black bulges sprawled out from the center of his torso, like black tentacles, buried just underneath like veins. And they were pulsing. They were writhing.

“What is that?” she managed to say, as she felt her throat start to close up. The room swam in front of her. She thought she might be sick.

“Vines,” Levi said, as the nurses descended on the man. Four of them held down his limbs, and a fifth pressed the device against one of the black shapes. There was the smell like burning rubber, and Annie looked away, her ears full of the man’s screams.

“I can’t… I have to…” she stammered. Her knees were weak. “I have to find Armin.” _I have to get away from this place_.

Levi put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll let you know if we find him.”

“Yes,” she said, barely comprehending. She stumbled back through the sick bay, pushed out of the exit doors. She was hopelessly dizzy. Her foot caught on something and she went sprawling onto the pavement.

She got onto her hands and knees and she felt something clench in her stomach. She threw up.

She threw up several times. By the end, she was dry heaving.

Finally, it stopped, and she stared down at the ground in horror.

There, on the black asphalt of the parking lot, were thin red rose petals. She stayed on her hands and knees, staring. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

 _Roses_ , she thought to herself.

 

* * *

 

There were different strains of hanahaki. Different types of flowers that one expelled.

Roses were different from the other strains. In the early stages, it wasn’t noticeable, but as the roses grew, the thorns on their stems began to dig into the throat. They left long bloody tears on the membrane of the lungs. Soon, it wasn't roses you were coughing up, but blood.

The other strains of hanahaki could gnaw away at a person’s health for months, but not roses.

Roses killed very quickly.


	11. Resolute

For what seemed like a long time she stared at her white fingers splayed on the asphalt, the red rose petals fluttering in a slight breeze.

Memories surfaced. College years. Going out to bars, drinking with her friends and her roommates and their friends. Laughing late into the night. Meeting Bertholdt.

Her PhD. Getting to know her thesis advisor. Learning about the history of medicine, the modelling of disease and its transmission, the best practices in the field. Her research with Armin. Thinking her whole life lay out in front of her.

But not now.

She closed her eyes and breathed.

She’d known, logically, that she was susceptible to the disease. Had told herself she’d be prepared for it. Mentally, she’d walked through the steps. She’d lived it as best she could in her mind’s eye.

She felt the despair that bubbled in the pit of her stomach recede.

She opened her eyes, got to her knees, and brushed herself off. _You knew this could happen. You accepted it. Said you wouldn’t run from it._

She’d promised that she’d find a cure to this disease. Now she’d just have to do so with less time. That was all it meant.

She stepped on one of the petals with the heel of her shoe and twisted, so that it broke. _You’re nothing to me but another constraint_ , she thought.

With that, she walked back towards the hospital, resolute.

Waiting for her at the entrance was Bertholdt.

 

* * *

 

Her heart hammered as she saw him, a tall figure leaning against the brick by the entrance doors. He peeled away from the wall as he saw her, took a few steps forward, then stopped.

She hesitated, a little distance away from him. She glanced around. There were a few people, here and there, entering and exiting the building.

“Annie,” Bertholdt said. “Before you say anything, I want to say that I’m sorry.”

Her brain was processing enough thought streams that it took her a while to respond. “Bertholdt… are you okay?”

He took another step forward. She saw that he was holding himself back. There was pain on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I know I scared you. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

That was enough. She crossed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, feeling him return her hug. Burying her head into his chest again, knowing he was still here, still hers, if only for a little while longer.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m here. We’re going to be alright.” They held each other for some time.

Eventually, she said, “Bear, you need to go to the sick bay. Levi and the other nurses will take care of you, until I find a cure.”

He shook his head. “No. Let’s get away from here.”

She looked up at him. His expression seemed plain and unharried. “Get away?” she questioned. Her eyes searched his face for clues.

“Let’s go, both of us. We can drive away.”

“Bear, you’re sick.” She hesitated, and then let it come out. “I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?”

She nodded.

He drew her close. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I can’t believe I thought you didn’t love me. I wasn’t thinking right. I was scared. But now I’m better. I know what we have to do.”

“It’s okay, Bertholdt, I forgive you. But what are you talking—”

“I love you.”

“…I love you, too.”

“Please,” he said. “Let’s just go. Drive away. Keep driving, out past the city, to the middle of nowhere. Find a grassy field with nothing in the distance, except mountains and the thin strip of road behind us. Wait for it to get dark. Please say you’ll do it with me.”

“I can’t, Bear. I have to find the cure.”

“There’s no cure. But maybe, if we love each other without the rest of the world to distract us, we can cure ourselves.”

“Bear.” She became very cold all of a sudden. Her body was trembling, and she knew he could feel her trembling in his arms. “You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I know you can’t believe me. But that’s okay. I’ll show you.”

He had a small napkin in his hand, and it brushed against the side of her face as he brought it to her mouth. She recognized the smell because it was like the anesthetic they used at the hospital. It was soft, and sweet, and slightly cloying, and it was the smell of chloroform.


	12. Fight

She reacted with an instinct she didn’t know she had. Twisting in his grasp, she brought one leg up and kicked the side of his knee, hard. She heard his gasp of pain, and squirmed backwards, trying to escape. But she felt his arms tighten around her and his voice, sharp, muttering, “Annie! Please, just do this, it’ll save us, love will save us—”

“HELP!” she screamed. “Somebody, help!” Then his hand was over her mouth, and she felt the slight fumes from the napkin.

She bit his hand, hard.

He shouted in pain, his hand withdrew, the napkin dropped.

“HELP!” she screamed again, and as she twisted, she saw people were running towards them.

“Hey, get away from her!” a voice said. Bertholdt was still holding onto her, dragging her backwards even as she kicked her heels in. His breathing was heavy, and when he spoke it was almost a snarl. “Everyone stay back,” he said. “This isn’t your business, it’s between me and her.”

“Bertholdt, what the hell are you doing?” a familiar voice said. “Let Annie go!” And, miraculously, his grip loosened. Annie sprawled back onto the ground, and on hands and knees she scrambled away. She turned to look back, as she heard Bertholdt say, “YOU!” He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the short, blonde-haired boy in front of a small, gathering crowd.

Armin.

“You took her away from me,” Bertholdt said, in a low, dangerous voice. Annie wanted to scream, but no sound was coming from her mouth. “You’re a snake. I knew it all along.” He leaned over, and coughed, a great, racking cough. Cherry blossoms flew from his mouth with the spittle.

Armin had taken a step forward. He had both hands outstretched. “Bert, you’re not thinking straight. The _hanahaki_ , in strong cases, it can affect the mind of the victim. Make them obsessed with the target of their affection, cloud their reasoning. We’re friends, remember? I helped set up your first date. I’ve rooted for you and Annie since the very start. I’d never do anything that would hurt you, or her. I’m on your side.”

Bertholdt was swaying. “But, you… I’m confused,” he muttered. “You tricked her. You must have. Or else she’d go with me. She’d love me, if not for you.”

“She does love you,” Armin insisted, his voice calm. “And that’s why she’s going to save you.”

“Save me?”

“Yes,” Armin said. “She’s going to save all of us. You just have to believe in her. You do believe in her, don’t you?”

There was a long moment, as Armin stood, hands outstretched, and the tall men swayed. Annie remained on the asphalt, transfixed. The crowd was watching. They murmured.

“I don’t know,” Bertholdt said. “I’m not sure what to believe.”

“Believe in us,” Armin insisted. “Believe in her.” There was another pause.

“Okay,” Bertholdt said.” I will.” And it was over.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t resist as Levi and a few of the other nurses restrained his hands behind his back. They walked him away from the crowd, in the direction of the sick bay.

Bertholdt gave one last, searching look backwards. Annie was still on the ground, her mind numb. She made eye contact with Bertholdt, and Annie saw something in his glance. Not love, not anymore, that she was sure of. In his eyes she saw _hanahaki_.

And a part of her wondered if it had all been _hanahaki_ , from the very start. How much of their relationship was real, and how much of it had been the chemical byproduct of a disease?

“Annie.” It was Armin’s voice. He knelt down next to her. He reached out and took her hand. “Are you hurt? I mean—sorry, that was a dumb question. Are you injured? Do you need medical attention?”

She looked at him. She opened her mouth. “Roses,” she managed.

Armin stared at her.

“You?” he asked.

She nodded, feeling the prickling of tears in the corners of her eyes.

“When?”

“Just before. Ten minutes ago.”

Armin was still for a very long time. Then, he said, “Annie. It’s me, too. I coughed up rose thorns earlier today.”

Now it was her turn to stare at him, the sense of horror drowning out the whole rest of the world. It was just his face—his smiling, youthful, face. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s unfair,” she cried out.

“I know it is,” he said. “Annie, ten minutes ago, I’d locked myself in one of the side offices. I was sitting in a chair by the window, and on the desk there were the barbiturates I’d taken from the supply closet. The dosage was high enough to… well, you know. It was cowardly, I know that. I’ve always been a coward, Annie. And this time, I was so afraid. My time’s up in less than a day. I just didn’t want it to hurt. And I was looking out the window, trying to summon my last scrap of courage, to just take the damn things and end it, and I couldn’t. And then I saw you and Bertholdt, and I forgot about all of that, and I rushed over…”

“Oh, Armin…” she said.

He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry I gave up,” he said. “It was a moment of weakness. But as I talked to Bertholdt, I remembered. You’re still here, and you’re still fighting. I can’t give in. I’m with you until the end.”

She looked at him, and turned her hand over, squeezed back. She swallowed the despair in her stomach. “Erwin’s prepared the lab for us,” she said, her voice growing steady. “And there’s a few things which I need to bring you up to speed on.”

“Okay,” Armin said. He stood, then helped her as she got up from the ground. “Let’s go finish our research.”


	13. Author's Note: Unfinished Story, Partial Ending/Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to everyone who was following this story. Due to personal reasons, I'm not going to be able to finish writing -- since May of this year, I've been struggling with my own medical issues. Coming back to this story for the first time in several months, I'm not sure if it's something I still want to work on. To give some closure to the readers who were following this, I'm going to go ahead and post my outline/completed snippets for the remaining part of the story, along with some of my author's notes to give some explanation.

_**Outline for Chapter 13:** _

Annie and Armin stay late in the lab trying to study the _hanahaki_ plants while at the same time poring over the data, such as the surgical reports. They are both starting to feel the effects, because those afflicted by roses are usually affected quicker. They bounce theories off each other. Annie starts to feel a profound emotional attachment to Armin and realizes it is the _hanahaki_. She tries to suppress it but cannot. She wonders if Armin feels the same towards her and suspects he does. She makes a move and he reciprocates. She feels a moment of guilt but it is extinguished by the hanahaki. She and Armin have sex in the lab. Since the feeling is not unrequited, she knows hanahaki is not causing unrequited love, but rather feelings of attachment. She also learns that sex will not stop hanahaki from killing her (although a part of her had hoped that would be the case) because she is still coughing up blood. She stumbles back to her office to collect data on recent events. She is looking for some kind of potential trigger event.

 

_**Notes** : very little of this is actually written. The sex scene was intended to be written as a horror scene. Part of the idea of this story was taking certain fanfiction tropes which are often used in romantic or explicit fic, and repurposing those tropes for a horror story. Specifically, the hanahaki-induced sex scene was based on the "Sex Pollen" trope, as found on TVTropes. But it could represent any tool fanfic authors use to get characters due to an altered mindset, such as A/B/O. I personally think there's an element of horror in the idea of losing control of oneself to such a degree that you have sex with someone you wouldn't otherwise have sex with. Maybe I'm just a prude._

 

* * *

 

 

**_Outline for Chapter 14:_ **

Annie works at her desk, moving in and out of sleep. She thinks she can feel the vines coming up her throat. Every time she coughs it is like coughing up shards of glass. She is scared to move quickly or else puncture something in her lungs. Mikasa knocks on the door. She is crying because Eren is sick. Everyone is sick except for Mikasa. Annie walks down to the lab. She finds Armin on the floor—he is dead. She goes back up. She coughs blood in the stairwell. She finds Mikasa. Her last theory is that Mikasa must somehow be immune. She questions Mikasa about everything. Mikasa mentions some kind of cultural ritual which includes the imbibement of honey. Annie realizes that the bee population collapse (can initially introduce because Annie would be looking at pollination patterns) means honey has become much more expensive and many people have switched to artificial substitutes. She asks if Mikasa has any honey and she does. She tries some, and although she feels no tangible difference, she tells Mikasa to give all the patients honey.

 

_**Notes:** the original idea for this was to have an ending similar to the Andromeda Strain, where the solution for the disease is essentially just found on luck and there's a sense of it being anticlimatic. Coming back to this, I realize that this can be seen more as a "convential medicine doesn't work, try natural remedies" sort of message, which is one I don't support, and so this would need to be reworked. Probably, I would change this so that Annie and/or Armin discovers a remedy by accident. Part of this chapter is written, including a scene I've included below where Annie passes out._

 

Annie realized she wasn't going to make it back up the stairwell.

The world swayed, and she felt her knees collide with the edge of one of the stairs, and her vision swam. The cough built in the pit of her stomach. She felt it clamber up out of her throat. It racked her body. She coughed flower petals.

Red flower petals swirled around her, brushing down her hands, running down her knees, dripping down her forehead. Red flower petals dripped down the stairway.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Outline for Chapter 15:** _

__Honey proves a somewhat effective remedy, and the root chemical compound is discovered by Hange who then engineers a vaccine. Annie, Mikasa, Hange, and (posthumously) Armin are credited with saving the nation from the disease. Unfortunately, not everyone was reached in time. Many people, included Bertholdt, die before they can be reached. (Annie almost dies too but gets very lucky.) Annie is still recovering at this time. The roses led to permanent scarring of her lungs. She reflects on the course of the disease and all that it took from her. However, she is happy about the people she did manage to save, including Falco.

 

_**Notes:** it's meant to be a relatively happy ending, in that a cure is found and many people are saved. At the same time, I didn't want an ending where the characters simply escape unscathed, and everything goes back to normal._

_When I first ran into a story about hanahaki, it was clear to me that it was an analogue for tuberculosis. Tuberculosis (once called consumption) is often characterized by the coughing of blood, and was once widely romanticized. In Japan there is a particular link in fiction between tuberculosis and unrequited love, as seen in the 19th century novel Zangiku ("The Lingering Chrysanthemum) by HIROTSU Ryuro, a story where a civil servant's wife is miraculously cured of TB when her husband comes home. You can search online and find lots of interesting articles about romanticism and tuberculosis._

_In FF today, I mostly see stories where hanahaki is used as a poetic shipping device. I wanted to write a story that focused on hanahaki as a disease. I also meant to use the association with unrequited love as a tool to explore Annie's character. Annie is naturally cold and reserved, and so when Bertholdt and Armin die, she can't help but hold herself personally responsible for not loving them sufficiently, even though logically she knows that's not how the disease works._

_Overall, I don't think I really achieved what I wanted to with this fic, and I kind of wrote myself into a corner by putting Annie and Armin into a situation where it should be very implausible for them to actually find a solution. That's not really how medical research works. At the same time, I think the most realistic ending (everyone dies) is just unnecessarily nihilistic. I think one day I might rewrite this/a story based on this premise, but for now I'm tabling it. Thank you to all the readers who followed the story, and I'm sorry that I can't find a satisfying resolution at this time._


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